‘Gabriel Finley and the Raven’s Riddle’ and ‘Heap House’

By Pseudonymous Bosch

Oct. 17, 2014

I am a dark urban fairy tale with strangely behaving birds and even more strangely behaving furniture. I am also the middle-grade debut for an author of two previous books for adults. What is my title?

If you answered “Gabriel Finley and the Raven’s Riddle” or “Heap House,” congratulations: You are remarkably well versed in this fall’s children’s books. If not, just laugh; you’ll pass the test anyway.

In “Gabriel Finley,” one raven always greets another with a riddle, but — wonderfully — the riddle is a test of humor, not acumen. If a raven fails to laugh, it is a sign that she is not a real raven but rather a monstrous valraven who has eaten her human soul mate, her amicus, in exchange for a taste of immortality. If, on the other wing, as it were, a raven laughs, then she is a member in good standing of her clever species. By extension, we poor readers need not answer the riddle either, only get the joke. A generous policy for a book positively riddled with riddles, some difficult even for a dedicated adult.

When we meet him, Gabriel has few companions, human, raven or otherwise. His father disappeared two years ago, his mother shortly after his birth. Now 12, Gabriel lives in Brooklyn with an aunt who is haunted by a past she will only hint at. He entertains himself by solving riddles — an old hobby of his father’s. Unbeknown to Gabriel, his family history is intimately connected to the secret world of ravens; and soon he is flying off on an adventure with his new amicus, the young Paladin. With the help of three kids, an adult thief and a walking desk (yes, you read that correctly), Gabriel traces his missing father to a hellish underworld. Before he can rescue his father he will have to face a fierce feathered foe, and of course, solve a multitude of riddles.

Occasionally, Hagen’s plot feels a bit forced. (For all his wariness, Gabriel spills his secrets rather freely.) Yet his story is never less than engaging. At times, it is enchanting. I give this fantastical book a hearty cackle.

At first glance, you might mistake Edward Carey’s “Heap House” for a new edition of Dickens illustrated by Edward Gorey. In fact, the novel’s delightfully dour, hand-painted portraits are the work of Carey himself; and its setting is not just 19th-century England but an odd alternate universe seemingly sprung from the detritus of the Industrial Revolution.

Our young orphan hero is Clod Iremonger. Like all Iremongers, he lives in Heap House, a crumbling mansion that sits upon an enormous ocean of trash known as the heaps. As miserable as they are eccentric, the Iremongers are weighed down not just by their woes, but literally: Each has a birth object, a personal albatross from which he may never part. Clod’s object is a bath plug that he wears on a chain like a pocket watch. He calls it James Henry, because that’s what it calls itself. For as long as he can remember, Clod has heard the objects talking, each repeating its name. It’s driving him mad.

To make matters worse, Clod is about to be married off to his mean cousin Pinalippy. Birth object: a doily. From this awful fate Clod is saved by a nosy servant, Lucy Pennant, another orphan. (We children’s book authors are ruthless when it comes to knocking off parents.) The novel alternates between the perspectives of Clod and Lucy. As these two awkward characters fall in love, or at least in like, objects in the house start taking on lives of their own. Eventually, even the surrounding seabirds are in a frenzy (see riddle at top). And the sinister history of the Iremongers bubbles up to the surface of the heaps.

A satisfying turn of events perhaps, but let me assure you this garbage-strewn book is not happily wrapped up with a sustainable recycling program. Carey remains true to his dark, skewed vision all the way to the perverse but perfect end. “Heap House” is weird, yes. Spectacularly so. The book implicitly protests the dehumanizing effects of mass production. It’s not much of a stretch to apply its themes to a publishing industry beholden to marketplace demands for more and more of the same.

“Gabriel Finley” and “Heap House” both seem likely to be the first books in series. Here’s hoping these two talented and original authors stay strange.

GABRIEL FINLEY AND THE RAVEN’S RIDDLE

By George Hagen

371 pp. Schwartz & Wade Books. $16.99. (Middle grade; ages 9 to 12)

HEAP HOUSE

Written and illustrated by Edward Carey

405 pp. The Overlook Press. $16.99. (Middle grade; ages 10 and up)

PsEUdonymous Bosch is the author of the Secret Series middle-grade novels. His new novel, “Bad Magic,” has just been published.